


Nothing Else Matters

by Synful_Cocktail



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brother fucking, M/M, Season 1, Wincest - Freeform, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synful_Cocktail/pseuds/Synful_Cocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a little over a month after Jess' death, Sam and Dean are still on the road trying to find the whereabouts of their missing father. Sam isn't over Jess, just as Dean isn't over Sam. Their re-unitement has stirred feelings up against the wishes of the one whose affected the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 - Straight to the Bone

Somewhere in the far off distance, a wolf bayed at the moon. Its howl reverberating in the horizon, getting softer as the sound faded off. Only for the sound to echo back from somewhere in the far-off distance. A once brilliant pink-orange sky had turned midnight black in a matter of an hour. Dark grey clouds rolled in, bringing with them the aromatic smell of rain. The thunder rumbled loud. It was as if someone had collected dice in a bass drum and rattled it around. Lightening crackled in the far distance, setting the whole sky a light with electricity. The rain had started off in a light drizzle before it poured heavy.

Wind billowed around the two figures who were stood in the middle of a cornfield, trying to decipher the weird symbols that were carved into the wooden fence posts that separated each paddock. The cool, crisp autumn air slicing through exposed skin like a sharp pair of scissors over fabric, chilling straight to the bone. The tallest one hunched over a large dusty book. The book was propped open in front of him, hishair wisping, dancing in the breeze. A frown marred his features as he scanned the pages of the book, searching for the corresponding text to go with the symbol. Sam Winchester was downright confused. The symbols posed no real meaning. It was something that a misinformed teenager would draw. Just as the owner of the field had done.

"Can ya hurry up? It's freezing out here." The shorter one snapped, pulling his coat tighter around his body. Puffs of white fog decorated the air around him he tried to keep himself toasty warm. Something which was hard to do considering that Sam insisted on coming out at _midnight_ to investigate. His brother was always the one for doing weird things like that. It was as if nothing had changed from their time spent together. "It's nothing more than a couple of rowdy kids, c'mon," Dean insisted as he kicked at the loose rocks around his feet.

Sam just sighed and shook his head, blowing warmth into his cupped hands. He rubbed them together as he stood. "There's something strange about them and I want to find out what that is." Sam said as he gathered up his things. He had a couple of books and loose-leaf papers scattered all around where he was sat. Sam frowned, looking like a typical school-kid with an armful of books. "Don't look at me like that, Dean."

"Like what?" Dean asked, trying to avoid looking at Sam's light pink lips, or into his piercing hazel eyes. Instead, he focused in on his Impala. But, he couldn't help but to imagine Sam sprawled naked over the hood, a bottle of whisky clutched in one of his hands as the fingers of the other curled upward, beckoned Dean to come closer. Dean's eyes widened as he finally came back to reality, the incessant snapping of fingers in his face getting louder. _Oh, crap._

"Like you look at women, it's weird." Sam mumbled, walking back to the Impala, shivering as his hands became exposed when he opened the door to the backseat. After his things were in the back seat, Sam opened the passenger side door and climbed in. "Dean! Are you coming or what!?" He called out, head tilting as he watched Dean close. It wasn't unlike him to act strange, but this... this wasn’t anything new exactly. Sam remembered seeing the exact expression on Dean’s face before.

Nodding small, Dean followed his brother, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets as he walked. Questions bubbled up from within Sam, but he wasable to stop the impending embarrassment as his older brother climbed into the driver's seat. The roar of the engine breaking the silence of the night.

Dean instead decided to concentrate on driving. He swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter. He was trying not to lose himself since Sam was only a mere couple of feet away. It had been a month since the disturbing thoughts of Sam and he together had arisen. Dean had no idea what to do about them, it wasn't as if he could act on them, Sam was his _brother_. He couldn't just waltz on up to Sam and kiss him, like he would a female. He had to tread careful. Fuck, he didn't even know if Sam was in the slightest bit attracted to men. He kind of guessed that he was; he had acted a little gay when they were kids. But that was only an assumption. He didn't want to mess up what they had with those sorts of prying questions. They'd only drive Sam further away.

Dean wasn't attracted to men..or was he? No, he can't be, he liked women. Breasts, muscle cars, masculine things, he wasn't gay. Imagining a cock buried balls deep in his ass didn't make him gay, in the same sense that looking up lesbian porn didn't make him lesbian. It was only what his mind was thinking up.

Glancing at Dean out of the corner of his eyes, Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "You look like you're going to pass out. How about you let me drive?" He asked, placing a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. The jolt of Dean's body in reaction not going unnoticed by either one of them.

Shaking his head from side to side slow, not taking his eyes off the road, Dean replied. "I'm fine. Why don't you get some rest? It'll be a while before we hit the nearest motel." He had to relieve himself; his jeans were a little too tight in the crotch area. It was a whole hour and a half before Dean pulled into the parking lot for the motel. The flickering neon lights became a distraction and also added to the abandoned feeling of the town.

Dean was beyond thankful that Sam had agreed to look for their dad with him. As horrible as it sounds, if it weren't for Jess dying Dean was sure that Sam wouldn't have come. It had been a while since that happened, and Sam still wasn't completely over it. Each night he had a nightmare and would end up in Dean's bed like they used to when they were little kids. It was comforting for Sam and hell for Dean. On those nights, he'd lay awake, just resisting the urge to roll over and kiss the hell out of Sam. He felt helpless, he didn't know how to help Sam. Dean had never dealt with something like that before. But, all it did was bring up memories of all the times that Dean had tried to cover up his feelings in their teen years. One to many times he was almost caught staring while no one was looking. His touch would linger that little while longer than necessary.

The sheer thought of what his dad may think about it had Dean tasting the bile in his throat. And caused a horrible, nauseous feeling in his stomach. His face had paled, if John knew about it he would without a doubt cast Dean out, cut him off from family and never speak to him again. It was unnatural. Sam was his _brother_. A brother shouldn't be thinking about their sibling in a sexual manner. He couldn't stomach that particular thought. The idea of the rules warped had his stomach muscles in a tight knot.

Kicking a rock as he passed - watching it tumble several times before hitting a concrete pole - Dean walked into the warmth of the reception area. The bell chiming as he entered, Dean was still shaken up at the previous train of thought. He heard the bell again a moment later when Sam joined him. "Are there any free rooms?" Dean asked the short man behind the desk.

Jolting in alarm of not expecting anyone to come in, he looked between the two brothers. "There are, yeah... will that be a king or two singles?" He replied.

Ignoring the roll of Sam's eyes, Dean tried not to let his mind wander as he shook his head. "Two singles." Ever since Dean and Sam had started working together, every one always mistaken them as being a couple. Dean didn't mind, but Sam... Well... He kind of did. The look on his face said it all; he looked damn well uncomfortable and that in itself was disappointing.

Signing the bond form, Dean handed over his credit card. He was trying to not notice the gaze that Sam was giving him; it was like a clingy woman after a night of sex. Taking back his card, Dean grabbed the keys and walked to their room. The door left open for Sam to follow in.

"Hey, Sammy?" Dean asked, dumping his bag on one of the chairs by the door. He shrugged off the thick leather jacket that he had since he was 17.

Sam looked over at Dean; the look on his face was quizzical. "Yeah?" His voice, for some reason, was thicker than usual.

All the possible questions Dean wanted to ask Sam had disappeared. His mouth had gone dry and he froze. "I... I was just wonderin' which bed you'd like." He asked, mentally cursing himself at the silly question.

Sam's head jerked a little and his eyebrows furrowed. "Uh, the one furthest from the window." He replied, the look on his face screamed 'why would you question that?' It had been a tradition since they were younger. To protect Sam, Dean would get the bed closer to the window. It was a habit instilled into the pair by their father; one which had stuck. Dean was without anything to say, so he simply nodded and crossed the room to his bed. He kicked off his shoes before he lay back against the squeaky mattress.

For the rest of the night, Dean spent it awake listening to Sam's heavy breathing. Not knowing where his head was at with his emotions. All he knew was that he was in deeper than what he expected.


	2. Found Something

"Dean, wake up, I found something," Sam's voice pierced through the current dream that Dean was having. The rough shake to his shoulders caused him to groan a mumbled ‘in a minute’ and scrunch his eyes up further in the hopes of falling back to sleep within the minute. And, he was awarded with a few moments of uninterrupted bliss; that was until Sam ripped the duvet off the bed, causing Dean to end up on the floor due to his legs being wrapped around it.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, Dean stayed lying on the carpet floor despite the material scratching on his bare chest. He avoided looking up at his brother, instead deciding to study the stain that was a foot away from his face, it was a strange colour and the shape at which it splattered was just as strange. “Was that necessary, Sammy?” Dean hissed, rolling away from the stain once he had figured out that it was left over from someone’s fun night out. Ignoring the heavy sigh from Sam, Dean hopped up, brushing off the dust and dirt which had collected onto his pyjama pants.

“Yes, I had to get you up somehow,” Sam answered, knowing that Dean’s question had been rhetoric. “This is important, though. I’ve found the meaning of the symbols.”

Dean rubbed over his face, his eyes closed. “There’s a meaning to them? The guy we spoke to-“

“Obviously doesn’t know that those symbols are meant for summoning spirits, usually, violent ones,” Sam said, pointing onto the piece of paper that was lying on the table next to his laptop. “Two of them are possession, and the other ones are drawn in order to control the spirit.”

It was early in the morning – for Dean – so, the eldest found it difficult to understand the words that were trying to pierce the sleepy fog inside of Dean’s head. “Why?” Was all that he was able to manage without coffee in his system, it was rare to get a single word out of him before his morning ritual was complete.

Given that Dean was still thinking about the dream he recently had before he was woken rudely, he was a little bit slow. Flipping the switch on the kettle, Dean leaned back against the counter to watch his brother hunched over the laptop, fingers typing away furiously at the keys. The thoughts that Dean was having were becoming increasingly frequent and more intense with each one. He was grateful that the water had boiled just as Sam had turned his head to glance over as it wasn’t something that was common for Dean. Had Sam been anyone else, they’d already be halfway into round two in his bed by then. But, Sam wasn’t anyone else, Dean had to tread carefully, guard his actions in fear of his brother catching on and possibly disowning him or something.

“Because… these murders are all connected in some way and I think these symbols are what’s behind them.” Sam stated, narrowing his eyes at the older male slightly for a few seconds before he turned back around to stare at his screen.

Dean nodded thoughtfully as he made his cup of coffee, “So, the person behind this has actual skeletons in their closet?” He smirked, risking a look over the rim of his mug at Sam who didn’t look all that impressed. Dean rolled his eyes and scoffed at the look on Sam’s face- his joke was funny. At least, that’s what he had thought.

“The shit I have to put up with,” Sam muttered under his breath, the shake of his head causing his ever growing hair to move with him. “Come on, we need to talk to one of the victim’s family.” He added with a pointed look at Dean’s lack of clothing.

Dean waved his hand flippantly, downing the rest of his coffee before he walked over to his bed. Reaching under, he pulled out his duffle bag. Stowing away his thoughts in one of the many mental drawers, Dean grabbed a pair of jeans and quickly traded the pants he slept in for the comfort of the worn denim, ignoring the fact that Sam’s gaze was focused on him. Once his shirt passed the sniff test, Dean made sure to pull it on slowly.

The slam of the hotel door caused the corners of Dean’s mouth to pull up into a smirk, a flannel was quickly pulled on along with his favourite leather jacket, after his necklace was settled over his shirt, Dean made his way out to where his brother was waiting out the front of the car. There was a slither of hope. Dean knew it, and, this piece of information meant that he was in an unusually cheery mood for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

It was the extra skip in Dean’s step, the smirks and sideways glances, the bottom lip which was peeling from too straight teeth constantly chewing on it that had Sam’s arm jerk out to prevent his brother from getting into the Impala. Curling his fist into the shirt, Sam whirled Dean around to face him.

“Sammy, what-“

“You’re going to tell me the truth, Dean. Ok? What the hell is wrong with you lately?” Sam asked, his tone softening at the panicked expression on Dean’s face. He knew that his older brother hated talking about feelings, it was something that he’d learnt from their father, so it wasn’t out of place to see Dean’s mask slip back on.

“Nothin’, Sammy. Promise.”

“Quit calling me that, Dean. I’m no longer twelve.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Dean quipped back playfully, smirking wide. Sam just sighed and got into the passenger side, pushing down the tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach; the same feeling that he had all day, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of his mind that reminded him what he was feeling was due to his brother. ~~His very single, extremely attractive, brother.~~ _’Don’t go there, Sam. Not again.’_

Sighing once more, Sam distracted himself by looking out the window. Confused at the thoughts swimming around his mind.


	3. Dream a Little Dream of Me

It went on like that for the next couple of days, the intricate dance around their feelings. It was normal for Dean to ignore his emotions, but for Sam it wasn’t, and that was taking its toll on the younger man. Usually, he would have attempted to talk to Dean – like he used to when they were younger – but, this was different. This wasn’t about some chick that pulled his hair in the second grade. He couldn’t possibly sit Dean down and tell him about what was going on in his head. His nights were becoming restless, tossing and turning just to avoid going to sleep- his dreams were becoming much more repetitive; always involving both him and Dean in various positions.

Sam recognised some of his dreams from when he was thirteen and first going through puberty. It was a horrifying experience, one that was even more embarrassing due to the fact that it was Dean who had to give him _the talk_. A permanent blush had stained Sam’s cheeks as he tried not to give away the fact that it was Dean who he dreamt about, not a girl. Sam had thought that college would rid his mind of those dreams, and it did, for a while.It wasn’t until he had met Jessica, that they had finally stopped finitely – at least that was before Dean decided to rear his overly pretty face and come back.

Hunched over the laptop, Sam was pouring through the town’s newspapers, his tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. Sam was consumed greatly by the research that he didn’t hear Dean come in. It took Dean’s weight against the back of his chair for Sam to look up from the all-too bright screen. “Found anythin’?” Dean asked, bracing his hands on the back of the chair. Sam was hyperaware of how close Dean was standing, the warmth radiating out of his older brother like a furnace.

Sam closed the lid with a click as he shook his head, “Not much… but, there’s a group which sounds suspicious enough to check out. Maybe they know how the symbol’s got onto the fence…”

Dean nodded slowly, the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk at how tense his brother had suddenly gotten. There was so much that could have been done to taunt Sam further, but Dean – had a sudden change of heart and – decided to instead clap him once on the back and move over to grab a cup of coffee.

If Sam had woman’s parts or just simply wasn’t his brother, he would already be bent over their table with his pants pooled around his ankles. That was the one problem, the whole sibling issue. Well… that and the fact that they weren’t any closer to finding their dad.

“Dean, if you hold that mug any tighter, it’ll break,” Sam murmured gently, his hand resting over Dean’s, hazel eyes focused sharply on a point on the counter. Dean could feel the tips of his ears slowly turn red, but he found that his grip relaxed a little.

Dean just coughed, looking anywhere else than his and Sam’s hands, “Yeah, yeah, Sammy… let’s just go to that group you were talkin’ ‘bout.” Dean almost stumbled over his words in his rush to get them out; to get Sam to take several steps back so he could have some breathing room and maybe will his blood to go back to where it was supposed to be.

Sam’s cheeks were as red as Dean’s shirt by that point and he just nodded hastily, hair swaying back and forth as he rushed over to where he was working. “S-sure,” He got out, taking care to place his laptop carefully in its bag. His breath came out a little heavier than intended, he hadn’t meant to make Dean uncomfortable at all. That wasn’t his intention, but it seemed as though he had judging by the way that Dean bypassed his now abandoned coffee in favour for a swig of whisky straight from the bottle in the fridge.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean grunted as he grabbed both the keys to the Impala and his duffle bag and walked out of the hotel room. He yanked the backseat door open, roughly chucked the bag in and closed it. All while trying to regulate his breathing. The tension was suffocating; something which he wished would die out soon. Dean made a mental note to stop in to a gas station so he could put some more air in the tyres, jumping when Sam appeared next to him.

“Don’t sneak up on a guy like that,” Dean scolded as he turned the key, his heart rate slowing as the engine roared to life.

Sam had a look of fake concern, his tone as sugary sweet as his coffee, “Must be the old age… you’re losing your touch, Dean.” Placing a solemn hand on his brother’s shoulder he added, “Why don’t I drive? Don’t want you to get a heart attack over a simple horn, now.”

Dean ignored the warm hand on his shoulder and huffed, “I’m not old, asshole. I’m only 26.” Neither one mentioned the fact that Sam’s hand lingered longer than necessary or that Dean’s face was several shades redder.

 

* * *

 

The teenagers – as it turned out – were utterly useless and no help whatsoever. They didn’t know what the symbols were or how they turned up at the farm, the only bit of information relevant to the case was that one of the guys had said that the markings were as old as the place itself.

Sam and Dean were now drawing up blanks as they tried to figure out what it meant. Dean was wearing the carpet thin with his pacing and Sam was huddled over his laptop with books surrounding him from just about every angle.

It was around the time when Dean had drifted off to sleep when Sam found what they were looking for. The symbols combined together to render the owner of the farm practically immortal – instead of the possession and control that Sam had originally though – so all that had to be done was to scratch off the symbols and then once the owner collapsed – salt and burn the aged body. All there was left to do was to wake Dean up from his dream and ignore the muffled moans.


End file.
